


And Yes (McKay is a Slut)

by Gemmi999



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Dirty Talk, M/M, Smut, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-05
Updated: 2012-03-05
Packaged: 2017-11-01 04:25:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/351912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gemmi999/pseuds/Gemmi999
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“Please what?” John looked at McKay, waiting for an answer.  “Please use you? Please touch your body and make it hurt, that good hurt that makes you come harder and faster then teenagers in the backseat of their parents car?"</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	And Yes (McKay is a Slut)

**Author's Note:**

> **Notes:** My first smut piece, please be honest. Written for Telesilla's prompt: _I want some seriously kinky SGA porn in which either John or Rodney brings the other down hard using either heavy pain or heavy humiliation or--ideally--both. And oh man, so many bonus points if it's Rodney--still himself: all pushy and stubborn right up to the point where he's not any more--on the bottom._
> 
> Written February 27, 2008.

And okay, yes, he had suggested that a spanking wouldn’t be remiss. The thought had passed through his head and he’d blurted it out before he’d really had a chance to sensor his words, and the idea of John’s skin slowly turning pink and then glowing and being slightly warm had just hit him, taking him from zero to turned on in six seconds flat. But he’d meant John, spanking John, making John whine in that tone he got occasionally, when he was really turned on and didn’t care who knew it. Didn’t care who saw it, or heard it, or walked in on it, because it didn’t matter compared to what John’s body was feeling.

But he hadn’t necessarily meant this: Rodney hadn’t meant for John to show up in the middle of the night. Rodney hadn’t meant for John to just start saying these things: “you’re so pretty, so pretty” accompanied by a slight pinch on his nipple, through his shirt. And then Rodney tried to move his hands, but he couldn’t, they were tied down and that thought made his dick just a little hard. “So pretty, Rodney. I can’t wait until you’re naked and tied up and I can see your entire pretty body, when I can feel your entire pretty body.”

And of course Rodney had to say, “I’m not pretty” back, a little confused, because John was the pretty one. John was the one he’d wanted to see tied up, the one he’d wanted to bring down hard and fast until all there was, all that could be, would be the sound of Rodney’s hand gently caressing (then not so gently caressing) John’s ass. He’d planned the entire thing out: John being tied up and naked in the middle of the room, standing, because Rodney was selfish and wanted access to all the good parts of John, not just the front or the back depending on how he was secured. And he’d planned out exactly how he would go from gentle to harsh, how many seconds there would be between each spank, how many spanks there would be before he saw John’s eye’s glaze over and heard the pleasure take over. He’d planned it all out, but it hadn’t happened.

Instead he was tied down and it was dark, and he knew John was somewhere in the room from the heavy breathing. He knew John was in the room because randomly, when he wasn’t expecting it, he’d feel John’s fingers ghost over parts of his body and then tweak or pinch or tickle something different. He held his breath afterwards, trying to anticipate the next caress, but Rodney couldn’t get the timing down. Out of all the things in the world for Rodney not to be able to do—this had to be the most crucial, the most necessary. Rodney needed to know exactly what John would do next because otherwise the pleasure and the pain were a too much, and his body would glide along from hot spot to hot spot, never really getting the opportunity just to appreciate the glow.

“Ouch!” Rodney called out seconds later when John slapped—spanked—his cock. And Rodney knew John was grinning in response, but he couldn’t see it. Then: “mmmmm” as John gently spanked his cock once more. This time John added a little tug and a pull at the end, a full handhold, and it felt so good and it was so perfect Rodney had to moan.

“What would you do if I told you to be quiet, McKay?” Sheppard asked. “If I told you that your voice was no longer allowed to make any noise, that you have to take what I give you and just accept it, make it yours. That if I heard your voice again I’d have to stop, and not just for a second. For five minutes, I’d stop and stare at you. I’d turn on the light and let you watch me, let you see how I’d choose to spend those five minutes, and you’d want it, you’d want more. But if you spoke again it would be another five minutes, and again and again, until I came.”

And Rodney wants to moan, wants to make enough noise so that the lights do go on; so that he can see John as he touches himself, see John’s face as it contorts with pleasure and he knows he’ll damn himself later, being so hard and so unable to touch; wanting so much. But he doesn’t. Rodney’s silent and his eyes are screaming the thousands of little sounds he wants to allow himself.

John grasps Rodney’s cock once more, and there’s slight tugging and a bit of pulling, and it feels so damn good. So damn good. Rodney bucks into the hand and he wants to moan, he wants to badly to just let everything out, everything he’s thinking, everything he’s feeling. This wasn’t what he wanted, originally. This was nowhere near what he’d wanted (Sheppard naked, with a red ass, cock weeping) but its so damn good that he almost doesn’t care.

“But I didn’t,” Sheppard grates out moments later. “I didn’t tell you to be quiet, McKay.”

And with that permission, Rodney begins to groan and thrust, trying to loose himself in the sensations only to have Sheppard’s hand mysteriously disappear and then it’s tears of frustration that are passing down his face. “Please,” he whispered, and he knows it won’t be enough even as he begs once more: “Please.”

“Please what?” John looked at McKay, waiting for an answer. “Please use you? Please touch your body and make it hurt, that good hurt that makes you come harder and faster then teenagers in the backseat of their parents car? Doesn’t that make you a slut, McKay?” John whispered the last part, and Rodney moaned louder, thrust up harder, trying to feel everything that his body could feel with John using it so blatantly.

“Slut,” Rodney mumbled, as if he was trying the label out for size, and he liked it. Moaning, he whispered it again. “Slut,” and then John stopped touching his cock, stopped touching Rodney’s body and Rodney moaned and thrust up into nothing and it was hard, going from being possessed to being alone. Rodney didn’t like it.

“You are a slut,” John whispered this again, right into Rodney’s ear. He had bent forward and his lips were on the outer edge of his left ear, John’s breath heavy against the sensitive skin (and Rodney had never considered his ear to be particularly sensitive). “I could do whatever I wanted to you, and you would just let me. You would beg me, with your voice, with your eyes. Nothing I’ve done so far is good enough, you want more, you need more. Slut.” 

And of course Rodney agreed. He panted after the words like a dog in heat, wanting what they promised. Wanting to be used hard and then used again, giving John whatever he needed because Rodney was a slut, totally. And he saw that now; saw that it could never be John who was tied down. That he’d never get a chance to slowly turn John’s ass red and heated, that his imagination would have to be enough. Because John was totally in charge, and Rodney was just this slut, this submissive little thing that would do whatever John asked him to.

Because Rodney was a slut. He moaned loudly, accepting his fate, knowing exactly what he was and what he would be: and he liked it, a lot. “More,” he moaned in between hot pants on his ear. He wanted more, needed more.

And John laughed at this, at how easily he had turned Rodney into this plaything for his use. “Slut,” he whispered once more before moving away from Rodney to contemplate his next move. This had to be a little like heaven.


End file.
